


Men, Women and All the Angels

by quilledcorsair



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Emma, CSSNS, F/M, Hunter!Killian, Supernatual!AU, little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quilledcorsair/pseuds/quilledcorsair
Summary: Emma Swan was an Angel, fallen from her grace and living a life of puffy vests, flannels and monsters. Killian Jones was a member of the British Men of Letters, but is just a disgraced British expat, with an endless supply of rum and shotguns. What happens when the angel and the hunter have to face the threat posed by the Men of Letters?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I would first like to thank Krystal for organising CSSNS. This gave a great reason to write this fic! Go check out the tumblr (cssns.tumblr.com) for all the other great Supernatural fics!!
> 
> My artist was @drowned-dreamer and she is AMAZING. I am so in awe of her artwork and I cannot say enough nice things about it!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic. I will be updating every monday!

 

Emma was an Angel. No, this was not a metaphor. She was an actual Angel of the Lord, fallen from her grace and now living the life of a hunter, with a child who was hers in all but blood. It wasn’t a very long story, but it was a quite painful one. She had spent centuries performing her duties, sticking to the rules and never straying. She had heard of the shenanigans that Castiel had gotten up to, she had scoffed at his insubordination, not understanding how he could give up  _ heaven _ for anyone. 

Emma loved humans; it was in the job description. But she did not wish to ever be one. In Heaven, she knew her role. She knew where she fit in, she knew what she was meant to do. It had already been written. She had been happy with the way things were, or as happy as an angel could be. But then she had met Henry; he had been only 4 years old at that time. She wondered sometimes, on the days she missed Heaven the most, if she should have just done what she had been sent to do. But then she would look at Henry - see how happy he was, how he had grown into a wonderful, kind young man - and she would hate herself for even thinking of Heaven.

You see, she had a mission to  _ deal with _ a nephilim named Henry, and so she had come to Earth - and she saved him instead. She had seen just a small boy, where the rest of Heaven saw a potential threat. She saw fear, and they saw danger. She had to save him, and she did - and in return, she had lost her right to ever go back, her wings, and the only family she had known had forsaken her. Getting kicked out of Heaven hurt, physically and metaphorically.

At first, it had been lonely, just her and Henry on the run. But then, she remembered Castiel, and how he had started helping the hunters, Sam and Dean Winchester. After almost an year after she had been kicked out of Heaven, she prayed. She prayed to Castiel, and he answered her. Well, he answered his phone, to be more clear, after she had failed to reach him through angel radio. She lost her signal to angel radio as well. That one hurt quite a bit, too. Just metaphorically.

Castiel had told her all that she needed to about being a hunter, and she joined the fight against things that went bump in the night. She had a purpose in life again, and she had allies now. In case something happened to her, and Henry needed to be cared for, Jody Mills would always be there. She had been an angel, and now she was a hunter, and in some ways, a mother. It took her a while to understand how things worked here on Earth, but once she had gotten the hang of it, she did not just survive, she thrived.

_ Of course, some days were harder than others, when it comes to survival _ , she thought, grunting as she fought against the vampire that was attempting to bite into her neck - she was quite fond her vessel, thank you very much. But before she could reach for her machete, a blade came from behind the creature, lopping its head off in one clean swing. And spraying Emma in vampire blood.

“Ugh, thanks for that,” she grumbled, wiping her face with the sleeve of her flannel shirt and glaring at Killian.

Killian Jones - British expat, hunter and a pain in Emma’s ass most of the time. But he was reliable and provides great back up, so she couldn’t really complain. Killian smirked, pushing the corpse of the vampire aside with his foot, his hand tangling in Emma’s hair as he kissed her hard. Emma gasped into the kiss, before falling into a now familiar dance with Killian. His hand moved from her hair, tracing the curve of her neck, and her arms were wrapped around his, pulling him closer to her. They were both slightly out of breath when he pulled away; her eyes were still closed and she could feel his warm breath on her face. For someone who seemed to have his flask always at hand, his breath did not smell unpleasant at all. Astounding.

Alright, so  _ maybe  _ he meant more to Emma than just as a fellow hunter.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, pulling away from her and sliding his machete back in it’s seath. He pulled her away from the wall she had been cornered against, but she pushed him aside the moment she was upright, walking away from him in a wordless huff. “Oh, come on, Swan! I saved your life!” he called out. Emma could hear the amusement in his voice, which only served to frustrate her further.

Sometimes, she wished she had told him she was an Angel, just so he wouldn’t try and save her every single time. Not that she needed his help most days; she could smite every single supernatural creature she hunted if she could. But as limitless as her Grace seemed, she was still in hiding from the angels and could not risk them tracking her. Not even when it seemed like they’d given up. She had to live like the humans - and hunt like them too. The only consolation she had was her Angel Blade.

“Swan, stop,” Killian called out, jogging up to her. “Why are you upset, love?” he asked, bumping his shoulder to hers. “We just took care of an entire nest of the bloodsuckers. I thought it was a cause for celebration.”

Emma stopped in her tracks, turning sharply toward him. “Celebration is a cold beer and chicken wings. Not- not what you just did.” 

“What  _ I _ did? It did not seem like you were uninterested, Emma.” Killian slid closer to her, his buttery soft leather jacket brushing against her knuckles. “In fact, it seemed like you were really into it.”

Emma sighed. “Killian, I told you. We cannot keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” he pressed. “Kiss?”

“Yes, that. And what usually follows when we kiss,” she added, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Killian smirked, eyebrows jumping obnoxiously. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that, Swan,” he said, trying to sound innocent - and failing.

“I have a son,” Emma said in way of an explanation.

“Yes, I know Henry. I took him camping last weekend. What’s your point?”

Emma groaned, stepping away from Killian, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “My point is I cannot keep jumping into bed with you whenever you feel like it. I need to provide Henry with at least a little stability, Killian.”

Killian expression fell, turning from amused to serious in a matter of minutes. “Do you really think that’s all I want? For you to just sleep with me?” he asked, hurt.

Emma scoffed, not buying into his act.  _ Where does he get off, pulling that crap on her?  _ she thought to herself. “Oh, please. Let’s not pretend that you want something more.” Emma turned her back to him, walking to her Bug.

But Killian was relentless, apparently. He pulled her back with a hand on her arm. “Emma, I do want something more,” he confessed, pressing his knuckles against her chin, making her meet his eyes. “I want to go on a date with you, somewhere with a dress code and a wine list that goes beyond  _ white, red  _ and  _ pink _ .” Emma chuckled despite herself. “I want to fall asleep next to you. Possibly after great sex, but I would take just sleeping.” Emma laughed, pushing him away.

“Could you just be serious for once?” she scolded.

“Hey, I am. I do want us to be something more than fuck-buddies,” Killian stated. “Why can’t you give me a chance?” he asked, looking earnestly at her. “We make a great team,” he added.

“I don’t know, Killian,” she shrugged. In all honesty, the only thing that held Emma back was because of what she was. Killian was a hunter, and hunters don’t take to angels. She had the chance to tell him three years ago, when they’d first met. But no one apart from Castiel even knew, and she had never expected to get close to any humans enough to tell them her truth. But all the hunters came to be some of the most important people in her life the past few years, Killian even more so, and it just became easier to keep her identity a secret. All they knew was she was a single-mother and that Henry was her son. 

But Killian wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t just her back-up, he had been there for Henry, too. All Emma wanted was for Henry to have as normal a childhood as possible, but how could she when they were constantly on the run? It was only recently that she felt more safe - after the fall of all the angels from Heaven a couple of years ago, they had bigger things to worry about than track down a harmless nephilim.

“Let me take you out on a date. One date.” Killian looked so sincere, and Emma could not find a reason to say no. Of course, there was the lying and deception and overall drama that would ensue when he does find out that she wasn’t who she had claimed she was. But Emma was just so tired of denying herself everything - she wanted a human life; well, dating was a part of it.

“Alright, fine. One date,” she agreed. Killian grinned so wide, the corners of his eyes crinkled adorably. “But we aren’t sleeping together until then,” she added, enjoying as she watched his face fall.

Emma left him standing there, loading up the trunk of her car. “I’ll see you around, Killian.”

-/-

Killian watched Emma drive away, his heart racing. Monsters, ghosts and demons? He could take those on any day, without batting an eye. But just a simple conversation with Emma Swan had his heart a-flutter. Liam would be having a riot if he had still been alive, ribbing Killian for his ridiculous crush.

Well, it was definitely more than a crush. This date had been three years in the making, and he was not about to fuck it up. He had met Emma for the first time when she needed back-up on a rugaru case and Rufus had sent him. She had been a hard-ass then, she was a hard-ass now - always challenging him. She was fierce, smart, strong and just- she was breathtaking. She made him  _ want  _ to hunt again, to help people again - not just because he had nothing else to do.

After Liam died and he had been, for the lack of a better word, dismissed from the British Men of Letters, he had lost all will to do anything. All he had know was how to be a hunter, all his life. Him and his brother, keeping the people safe from the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Until one day, when Liam went on a mission without him, and everything went to shit. It was a routine hunt, a wraith attack in the suburbs in Surry. Killian had passed on it, more fascinated by a cursed medallion and wanting to study it. If only he had went with Liam, maybe he could have done something. 

Killian had read the report of his brother’s death multiple times, questioned Liam’s partner, Robert Gold, again and again. Things never seemed to add up and he could not shake the feeling that Gold had been hiding something. Killian had been relentless in his search for the truth and it had ruffled quite a few feathers. But the last straw had been when he’d accused Hess of murdering his brother. They had kicked him out without a second thought.

The British Men of Letters had been his home since Liam and him had been children. They had taken them in after their father had been murdered by a rugaru. They had been his family, and to know how easily they had forsaken him? It broke him.

So he packed up his bags and went to the only place that he knew those snobby prats would never come to - the United States of America. They had never found the American hunters worthy of the title and often used to scoff at the job that they had done. Killian was one of them - until he had come here and they had welcomed him with some whiskey and a shotgun. If it hadn’t been for Bobby Singer’s kindness, he would have struggled a lot more; that grumpy old man was the reason he survived.

And when he met Emma, he finally understood that surviving wasn’t enough. She was a single mother, and she  _ lived _ for her son. But that did not stop her from being a kick-ass hunter. She made him  _ want _ to be a part of a community again, to  _ want _ more than just surviving.

Killian mused about some of his old hunting days with Liam as he parked his car in front of the motel he was staying at. He was not expecting company - Emma had been pretty clear about that. Which is why it took him by surprise when he found a man lounging on a chair in his room - he stood up when he saw Killian enter, grabbing a cane that was next to the chair.

“Hello, Jones,” Gold greeted him.

“Hello, sourpuss,” Killian grimaced. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in updating. My father passed away, unexpectedly, two months ago and it has been really hard to find the right motivation to write. But I'm back now. You can expect updates every Monday, around this time.

Killian shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on a chair nearby, side-eyeing Gold the entire time. “Well? You gonna answer me?” he demanded when the older man remained quiet.

“What, no pleasantries, Jones?” Gold sneered, his eyes glinting dangerously. “We are old pals, afterall.”

“You’re no pal of mine, Gold,” Killian snipped. “How did you find me?”

“I’m still a part of the Men of Letters, Dearie. It’s not difficult to track down a British hunter in these here parts,” he mocked, adopting a mocking American accent. Killian couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Gold’s pretentiousness.

“And you thought I would welcome you with open arms, is that it?” Killian chuckled dryly. He remained standing, unwilling to let Gold have the higher ground in any way.

“Believe me, if it were up to me, I would not have come after your traitorous arse,” Gold spit out, his hands fisting at his side.

“Well, why are you here, then? I am no longer a part of your precious organisation. I have my place here, Gold.”

Gold looked like he wanted to do anything but talk to Killian, and Killian wouldn’t blame him. They did not part on good terms; no matter the playful rivalry between the Jones brothers and Gold, they had always had a certain respect for the older man. But everything changed when Liam died, including any relationship with Gold. There was nothing playful about how much he despised the man. Gold might not have killed Liam himself, but he definitely knew something. It took a long time for Killian to put his past behind him; seeing Gold again only brought everything back.

Gold’s expression was impassive as he took a seat again, his injured leg not allowing him to stand for too long. Killian felt an ugly sense of smugness rise up at this but he pushed it down, and he took his own seat. He had never been a man to take pleasure in another person’s pain; that was not the sign of a man with good form and integrity - that was not how Liam raised him. 

“Hess has decided to expand to America,” Gold stated, leaning back in his chair. “You know how she despises the way the American hunters work. No order, no discipline,” he added, smiling thinly at Killian.

Killian returned Gold’s smile with equal rancor. “What does that have to do with me?” 

Gold’s expression soured further, if it were possible. “She wants  _ you _ back in the fold. She thinks you have an  _ in _ with these hunters. Perhaps you could convince them to join our ranks. Hunt the monsters our way - the right way.”

Killian barked out a laugh, almost startling Gold. But that man had perfected the art of maintaining a stoic expression a long time ago and appeared rather unfazed. “What in the world made you think I would accept your offer?” he asked, taken aback by Gold’s audacity. “Have you forgotten how we had left things between us, Gold?” 

Gold sighed, his hand gripping his cane tighter. “Jones, I have no quarrel with you. You were the one who defected from the Men of Letters.”

Killian shot to his feet, his temper flaring. “You lot are the reason my brother is dead. Why would I ever want to join you? You are everything that is wrong with the world.”

“I remember a time when the Men of Letters were everything you had in the world,” Gold replied.

“I have more to live for now. I have integrity, old man. Something you will never understand,” Killian spat.

Killian saw a menacing glint in Gold’s eye as the older man stood up again, smirking at him. “Oh, I know everything about what you live for, lad. Tell me, what was the name of your friend…. _ Emma _ was it?”

Killian’s reaction was immediate and swift; he grabbed his gun from his holster, switching the safety off and had it aimed at Gold’s head in the blink of an eye. Gold stared at the muzzle of the gun calmly, as a parent would at a pouting child. Killian’s jaw ticked, angered both by Gold’s veiled threat and his lack of a reaction. “You stay away from her,  _ you dick. _ ”

Gold rolled his eyes, taking a step toward Killian. But that just made the younger man tighten his hold on his gun. “You can put your gun down, Dearie. I’m not here to make threats.”

“Funny. It sounded very much like you were,” Killian retorted.

“Why don’t you put your weapon down and we shall have a civilized conversation?” Gold suggested. “Or have you forgotten your manners?”

Killian hesitated, his body tense and on the edge. Gold might be a right bastard, but if he had wanted to harm Killian or anyone he cared about, he would have done so by now. He switched the safety back on, and slowly lowered his gun, never once taking his eyes off of Gold.

“Fine. Tell me why you’re here,” Killian growled out.

-/-

It was very early in the morning by the time Emma had reached her house, having driven all night to get back home to Henry. While she was not bothered by trivial human needs like food and rest, she still appreciated having a place to come to and relax. Not that she would call raising a teenage boy something that was relaxing. But Henry was a well-behaved boy for his age; he was smart, understanding and just - he was a good kid. She could not understand why anyone would ever want to harm him, just because he might not be entirely human. Evil wasn’t born, it was made - and that child did not have an ounce of evil in his body. 

Unfortunately, most hunters saw the world simply  as humans and others - and all of the others apparently had to go. Emma too had once thought the angels were the good guys and the demons were the bad ones, but that was not the case. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that the world was not going to judge her and Henry, that the hunters would accept an angel and nephilim as one of them - she could not take that risk. Heck, she was not able to tell even Killian and she trusted him with her life, and more importantly, with Henry’s.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by a soft knock on her car window. She smiled when she noticed Mary Margaret there, wrapped up in a thick coat with a mug of hot cocoa in her hand. Emma rushed to get out of the car, not because she needed the warmth, but because she did not want Mary Margaret to freeze because she wanted to bring Emma her hot cocoa.

“Mary Margaret, it’s freezing outside!” Emma exclaimed, taking the offered cocoa from the other woman’s hands and urging her inside.

When they were both inside the house, their respective coats deposited and stomping the snow off their boots and leaving them to dry at the door.

“I was making something to drink for myself when I saw you drive up and thought I could bring you some to warm you up,” Mary Margaret explained sheepishly. “It’s so warm inside the house, I did not expect it to be that cold outside.”

Emma couldn’t help but be touched by her friend’s gestures, smiling fondly at her and shaking her head. David and Mary Margaret had been her first friends when she had first started hunting; they had met when Mary Margaret’s father had been murdered by a demon possessing her step-mother. It had been awful for Emma to even hear, how David had successful managed to send the demon back it came from, but her step-mother had been beyond help. In one day, Mary Margaret had lost the only family she had had. David had taken her with him, and they had slowly fallen in love.

Mary Margaret had become the mother-hen for most hunters, as well as a master weapons’ maker. She had first worked out of Bobby Singer’s house, but when she had heard that Emma was a ‘single-mother’, she had jumped at the opportunity to help. Emma could not tell you when it happened, but one day Henry and her were living alone in their cabin and before they knew it they had moved into David and Mary Margaret’s house. Now David and her went on hunts and Mary Margaret took take of Henry. Emma never had to worry about him since then. While Mary Margaret did not prefer to come on hunts with them, she was more than capable of defending herself and Henry.

Besides, it felt nice to be a part of a family of sorts again. David often treated Emma as a younger sibling; if only he knew how many ieons she had been alive. 

Emma sipped her hot cocoa, sneaking quietly into Henry’s room and sat on his bed, watching him sleep. She was tempted to push his hair away from his face, noting that she had to cut it at some point before it grew too long and she received a note from Henry’s school about hair length. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the trivial human concerns.

“Hey,” she whispered, placing her mug of cocoa on Henry’s night stand. “Wake up, kid.”

Henry stirred, groaning at being woken so early. “No,” he grumbled. “Later, mom.”

Emma bit her lip, knowing that his sleep addled mind will take a moment to realise. And just as she predicted, his eyes flew open, staring at her hard. “Mom!” he exclaimed, scrambling out of his sheet and leaping into her waiting arms. 

Emma chuckled, revelling in the feeling of having her son in her arms once again. It had been odd for her, the extent to which humans tended to display their affections. But after spending so many years in their company, not only had she come to adapt to it, she had come to relish it.

“Missed me?” 

“Duh! Tell me everything! How was the hunt? How was Killian? What did you guys find? What happened? What took you so long?”

“Woah, woah. Slow down, kid.” Emma laughed, feeling a swell of affection for this child. All angels were taught that their emotions were irrelevant, and unnecessary; they were above such human frailties. Or so she thought. But it was only now, in all her millions of years of existence has she come to appreciate these emotions, and their complex nature. It was as refreshing as it was jarring, every single time.

She had never felt more free than right now, masquerading as a human.

-/-

It was dawn by the time Gold had caught Killian up on everything that had happened since he had left Britian.

“You’re telling me  _ Hess _ convinced you to bring me back? Why?” Killian demanded, his arms crossed across his chest defensively.

“Because the American hunters trust you. Besides, the Winchesters are harder to deal with, and you know how we function. You have a better chance of convincing them.”

“What makes you think I would side with you?” Killian couldn’t help but scoff. The Men of Letters had turned their back on him ages ago; he had vowed never to go back to them and their politics.

“Killian, we were friends once. You belonged with the British Men of Letters; you had your place there.” That took him aback. He had seen Gold be smug, hostile, and heck, even downright malicious after the whole mess with the Men of Letters back in Britain. But he had never seen the man so unpretentious; Gold sounded almost regretful. “I promise you, I had nothing to do with Liam’s death.”

Killian’s jaw clenched tight at the mention of his brother’s name. But something about Gold’s demeanor made me pause. He sighed, rubbing his forehead heavily, “I will try and talk to them. But I will not convince them to come your way. And I will not stand against the Winchesters. Whatever scuffle the Men of Letters have with them, it’s none of my business.”

Gold smiled, his first genuine smile, looking mighty pleased. “Does this mean you are back with us?” he asked, seeming to already know the answer.

Killian took a deep breath, unsure of his response. “I don’t think so, Gold. These hunters are my family now; I cannot just side with you.  _ You _ might not have had something to do with Liam’s death, but I’m not quite certain about Hess. I cannot in good conscience work with people who might have been responsible for my brother’s death, and who turned their backs on me.”

Gold looked defeated, leaning back heavily in his chair. At that moment, Killian could clearly see the toll the many years had had on his old colleague. “Can’t say I blame you, lad. I’ll be in touch,” Gold said after a long moment of silence, placing his card on the table and walking out the door.

Killian was left with more questions than anything else. Why would Hess want him back? Why would they even want to expand into America? And what was Gold’s agenda? Because Killian did not believe for one  _ moment _ that the man truly considered Killian his friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your kind words, and for being so supportive and understanding!
> 
> I'm so glad people seem to like this fic and are so receptive to it!! 
> 
> Some stuff ACTUALLY happens in this chapter!!

Killian was quick to leave after Gold had departed; there was only one person he could go to for some advice. And perhaps he also felt like seeing Emma Swan again. He took a quick shower, changed and was out the door in 45-minutes, Gold's card burning a hole in his wallet.

His grip tightened involuntarily as he thought about his days with the Men of Letters. He used to follow them blindly, believed in the cause without question. He trusted them implicitly, but Liam had not. He had been much older than Killian had been when he was initiated into the Men of Letters, and he had always had his doubts about the organisation. But he performed his duties, without question, keeping his opinions to himself, and sometimes he shared them with Killian. His displeasure started grow around the time of his death, something about a classified mission gone wrong and the cover up that followed. Liam never told Killian what it was, protecting the integrity of the mission despite his personal feelings about it. A couple of weeks after that, Liam was dead and Killian was left with more questions than ever.

It had taken him years to let go of his need for revenge and look forward in life. Most of which happened after he had met Emma Swan and her son. They had changed him in ways they weren’t even aware of. He would give anything to be a part of that - a family, no matter how big or small. They weren’t the only people he had in his life; every one of the hunters whom he had encountered have come to mean something to him. But Emma had grown to be his confidante, his best friend before they even shared a bed. He trusted her, and her judgement.

Of course, that would mean opening the can of worms that was his past. He was certain there was nothing quite as dramatic as his exit from the Men of Letters.

-/-

Emma had received a text from Killian, informing her that he was coming over. That he “ _ needed to talk about something” _ , which made her quite apprehensive. She hoped that he did not want to discuss anything to do with  _ them _ . She had agreed to the date with the hope that he was willing to take things slow. But something told her it was something else; Killian was not one to come over to her house on a whim. 

She had been helping Henry with his homework, although it was not clear to her why the school insisted that algebra was essential for 8th graders. Emma herself was fluent in many languages, most of them forgotten or had never been discovered; but algebra stumped her. She never had to learn this. It was simply something human made up to complicate their lives.

“Hey, I just got a 911 text from David,” Mary Margaret said, rushing into the room, her cell phone clutched in her hand and her eyes frantic.

Emma shot up from her seat, her hands resting on Henry’s shoulders, both of them looking alarmed. “What happened?” Emma asked, fear gripping her chest.

“Don’t worry,” Mary Margaret assured her. “He’s fine, just minor injuries I think. August broke his arm and David needs backup, so I kinda gotta leave now.”

“I could go, if you want,” Emma offered, knowing that while Mary Margaret was great at DIYing one-of-a-kind weaponry, she wasn’t the best hunter. She had admitted to this herself.

“Normally, I would agree. But you haven’t been home in a week, and you just got in this morning. Spend some time with your son!” Mary Margaret smiled, rushing to her room to pack.

Emma nodded to herself, pressing a kiss to the top of Henry’s head. She did miss her kid, and she did deserve a break. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Henry asked, chewing the bottom part of his pencil.

Emma batted the pencil from his mouth absentmindedly, while nodding to his question. “Yeah, kid. She’s got David there, remember?”

“I hope August feels better soon,” he sighed, getting back to his homework. “D’you think we could go visit him at his home? I could sign his cast.”

Emma raised one eyebrow, surprised at Henry’s request. He had not been shy to display his displeasure about August, and avoided him as much as he could. For him to volunteer to go and see the guy was  _ very _ suspicious. She got her answer pretty quickly, though.

“I heard Killian moved in with August,” Henry added innocently, not taking his eyes off of his work.

Emma resisted the urge to chuckle at her little matchmaker. “Oh, really?” she drawled, resting her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed at Henry.

He simply shrugged, shooting her a clueless smile. “Mary Margaret told me. I’m just the messenger, mom.”

“It is curious that he moved one town over from us,” Mary Margaret called from inside her room. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Get to packing, lady!” she called out. “And for the record, I don’t care where Killian is living.”

“Oh really?” Henry sassed, earning a playful slap to the back of his head.

“Get back to work, little man,” she instructed, leaving him to hang out with Mary Margaret for a second.

“Hey.” She dropped on the bed, watching as Mary Margaret grabbed bits and pieces of paper, and small books, cramming them into her bag.

“He moved in last month. Yes, he told me. He told me not to tell you, but I couldn’t help it. Also, you really should date him. You know you want it, and you  _ know _ he does. I mean, you’ve already slept together, so you know he’s good in that department.”

“Mary Margaret!” Emma whisper-yelled, slack-jawed at her friend’s gall.

“What? It is true, isn’t it?” She paused her packing, turning her full attention on Emma. “Honestly, everyone knows you guys will end up together. He’s always there for you, and he  _ adores  _ Henry. What’s stopping you?”

Emma knew what was stopping her; her big, bad secret. She was an angel, and even without her wings, and with her Grace magically suppressed, she can’t change who she was. Heaven had given up on her, but despite everything, she could not give up on Heaven. She could not give up being an angel. What if she needed her powers one day? What if Heaven was once more ready to accept her, and accept Henry? She couldn’t lose that chance.

She plastered a smile on her face, nodding to Mary Margaret. “I’ll think about it.” After a beat, she remembered the real reason she had come in. She grabbed the key from around her neck, handing it over to Mary Margaret.

“The key to the vault. You’ll need guns, remember? Keep it with you, I won’t be going on hunts for a while.” It was not safe for them to keep all their guns and weaponry at home with a teenager in the house. Even Mary Margaret worked out of a workshop a couple of miles from the house that was secured both with manual locks and spells, keeping trespassers out. But some of their gear for hunts were stored in the large vault in the garage. They had had it spelled hidden, and Henry had no clue of its existence. While he might know about things that go bump in the night, none of them were comfortable handing a gun to him yet.

Mary Margaret grabbed it, thanking Emma for reminding her. Soon enough, the brunette was all packed and out of the house. Emma and Henry waved at her from their front porch before Henry rushed off inside. Emma lingered, looking around carefully.

She felt the prickle at the back of her neck, apprehension settling like a rock in her gut. Someone was watching them.

-/-

Killian cursed loudly when he heard a loud pop, his car swerving slightly.  _ Blasted tyre _ , he thought, frustrated. He managed to park it on the side of the road, climbing out and slamming the door closed, grumbling unintelligibly the whole while. His evening only got worse, as he discovered that he did not have a spare. He pulled his phone out, trying to figure out the nearest gas station or autoshop. And with the rate his luck was going, he should not have been surprised to find that he had no signal in the area. He grabbed the map and torch from the glove compartment, starting his trek to the gas station.

They say bad luck usually comes in three’s and he was hoping that this would be the last of it. He had enough to deal with, with the British Men of Letters back in his life. He had a blinding headache and could do without any more drama. It took him over thirty-minutes to walk to the gas station, but thankfully he found what he needed. While he waited for the trucker who had offered him a ride back to his car to fill up his tank, he wandered around the convenience store, picking up some food for the road. By the look of things, it would be well past the Swan’s dinner time when he reached and he was not about to starve himself.

He spotted a keychain at the counter, reaching for it without thinking. A smile pulled at his lips, his thumb tracing the swan engraved into the metal. He grabbed it on impulse, adding it to his purchase. He might be going to Emma with a moral dilemma, but that did not mean he shouldn’t woo her as well.

He heard the trucker call for him, rushing out the store, his spare tyre and purchases in hand. Maybe if he had lingered for a while longer, he would realised that he had signal by the shrill ringing oh his phone.

Perhaps, if he had heard the call, if he had answered it he could have prevented everything that happened next.

-/-

Emma and Henry had just sat down for dinner. It was mac ‘n’ cheese night, the only thing Emma knew how to make that Henry liked. He usually preferred Mary Margaret’s food, the traitor. In retrospect, Emma couldn’t remember what they had been talking about. Just that one minute, Henry was laughing so hard he started snorting adorably, and the next there was loud banging on their door. Emma jumped to her feet, pulling Henry from his chair and pushing him to the bedroom, whispered for him to hide.

“Open up in there!” a loud, male voice boomed. Emma did not recognise the voice, and she was on full alert, her angel blade materialising in her hand. 

She could open the door, but that would put her on the defensive. Eventually, whoever it was would either leave or they would break down the door. If she had a functioning heart, Emma was certain it would be beating frantically.

She heard the guy shout a couple more times, and then heard his footsteps retreat. She let out a soft breath, but she had let her guard down too soon as a large cannon burst through the door, blowing her to the side. If she were human, she would have died on impact alone. But thankfully she wasn’t. Unfortunately, she was not able to get to her feet before the man came through the door, whistling to himself. He looked around and seemed genuinely surprised when he found her not only conscious but with enough strength to pounce on him, stabbing him right through his chest, his eyes wide in shock, blood guzzling at his mouth as Emma pushed him aside, leaving him gasping for his last breath. This was against everything she was - she had never killed someone who was human before, but no one willing to shoot a cannon into her house would do that if they intended to have a pleasant conversation.

She needed to get Henry and get out of here before more of the dead guy’s friends wanted to join the party.

She stumbled over the rubble and broken pieces of the front door, rushing to Henry as fast as her feet would carry her. He was hiding under the bed in her room, his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight. Emma touched his shoulder, startling him.

“It’s just me, kid. C’mon. We need to leave. Now.”

Henry nodded, to frightened to say a word. Emma grabbed his hand once he had rolled out, pulling him to his feet. Both of the ran out the back side of the house, Emma cursing herself for giving the key to the vault to Mary Margaret. She did not grab her keys or any weapons apart from her angel blade, most of the entryway blocked by debris, and she was not going to go back to her house now. She hoped she could get to her car before any more thugs arrived.

Emma and Henry ran to the front of the house, sighing in unison when they noticed the car still intact. It was only after they had gotten closer did she realise that they had slashed her tyres.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, feeling frazzled. In all these years of being in hiding, she had never been this close to an attack. She was not prepared, and she had no idea who the man who attacked them was. Or who he was affiliated to.

“What are we gonna do, mom?” Henry cried, his fear apparent in his voice.

“We’re going to figure it out, kid. But whatever happens, I need you to follow my lead, alright?” He nodded, swallowing thickly.

Emma started running with Henry in tow. They needed to get to their neighbour’s house, just a couple of miles south. She could hot wire their car, and put as much distance as she could between them and the house. Thankfully, she had her phone on her. She dialled Killian’s number first, to warn him about coming to their house. But the calls kept going to voicemail.

Who would have thought that her perfect day of relaxation with her son would turn into this?

“Mom! Stop!” Henry called out, panting hard. Emma stopped, turning to face him. “Where are we going? We can’t outrun anyone on foot!” he exclaimed, frustrated tears springing to his eyes. “What’s going on? I’m scared.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged, and she dragged her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to his head. “We’re going to be fine, I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Aww, isn’t this sweet?” 

Both Emma and Henry turned to the person who spoke, Emma’s breath catching in her throat. The man stood in front of them was fairly normal looking, nothing special or unusual about him. But his eyes had a dead look to them, and he had a large weapon in his hands. Emma had never seen something like it before.

“Who the hell are you?” Emma demanded, standing guard in front of Henry. The boy gripped his mother’s jacket tight in his hand; she could feel the fear radiating off of him.

“The name’s Issac Heller, British Men of Letters,” he said, tipping a proverbial hat at her. “I’m only here for the boy. You stay out of my way, and I wouldn’t have to harm you.”

“Like hell I will,” she grinded out. “You will have to go through me to get to my son.”

“Well, if I  _ have _ to.” He grinned, holding up his modified weapon, as Emma readied herself for a fight.

-/-

Killian could barely see in front of him in the dark, the headlights only helping him so much. Which was why he almost choked himself on the seatbelt, slamming on the breaks, when he saw someone stumble into his car’s path. He skidded to the side, his car stopping with a harsh screech. He quickly unbuckled, jumping out of the car to assist the person he almost hit.

His heart dropped to his gut when he saw who it was - Emma Swan, heavily injured and stumbling over to him. He rushed forward, catching her just as she started to fall. 

“Emma!” He fell to his knees, cradling her.

She winced, grabbing her thigh and hissing whens he reached for her. His eyes bugged when he noticed a gunshot wound.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” he demanded.

“They- they got Henry,” she bit out. He could hear the tears in her voice. “They took him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the original artwork for the fic at: https://drowned-dreamer.tumblr.com/post/175016923974/artwork-for-the-corsair-and-her-quills-fic-men


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